


Not Today

by ProspertheXVIII



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [4]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Prompt Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 05:09:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13517241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProspertheXVIII/pseuds/ProspertheXVIII
Summary: Roy has a hangover. A drunken fall-out the night before puts Shane in the mood for being a petulant shit.Tumblr prompt series 4/?: "You're Satan."





	Not Today

**Author's Note:**

> Part of this drabble challenge: http://rosetlntstheworld.tumblr.com/post/170157290911/drabble-challenge
> 
> Message me a number and pairing and I'll get writing :D

“ _ We don't just sing songs in gay bars, we also fix automotive- _ OW, FUCK!”

The expletive was accompanied by what sounded an awful lot like every single pot and pan Roy owned falling out of the cupboard and onto the floor. Well, fuck - he was definitely awake  _ now _ . He’d been half-blocking out the sound of Shane singing over the top of the already loud radio, and making breakfast with as much noise as was physically possible for what felt like forever - a pain in his head that felt something like somebody was hammering nails into his temples. He didn’t know how many times he’d drawn to this conclusion before, but he was never fucking drinking again. Specifically not now that he was waking up fully-clothed and sprawled across the sofa, with a vague recollection of the fact that he was pissed off with Shane, but not entirely sure  _ why _ . 

He rolled onto his back, hands over his eyes to try and block out some of the light - Shane had opened the curtains as wide as they’d go, on top of switching on the ceiling light and every lamp in the room. Fucking asshole. He’d kill him as soon as he stopped feeling quite as much like death warmed up. ‘Warmed up’ was probably an exaggeration, to boot. He half-sat up - doing his best not to look at Shane, who he could see wandering around the kitchen in his peripheral vision. Fuck this shit. Fuck this shit, and specifically fuck Shane. He was so unfathomably pissed with him, more so because of what he was doing. He was clearly fucked in the head. Little shit.  At that precise moment, Roy was thinking he was seriously fucked in ways other than the head or the arse. The first was unfortunately unavoidable, the second would have been preferable, but the actual situation was essentially Shane getting bored and deciding to take out whatever stupid grievance he had from the night before on Roy whilst he was inches from death, and therefore vulnerable. 

He got to his feet, shakily as he squinted his eyes - glasses askew, half over his right eye and half on his head - against the harsh brightness and stumbled through to the kitchen. 

“Good morning, sunshine!” Shane said breezily - or rather, yelled fit to wake the dead over the sound of the speakers and the clanging pans he was still picking up off of the floor. “Sleep well?”  
“Fuck. You.” Roy perched on a stool, head in his hands and voice sounding something like he’d recently swallowed a fairly considerable amount of gravel.  
“Ready to say sorry yet?”   
“Say sorry for what? I can’t remember a fucking thing.”   
“What was that?” Shane switched the blender on as Roy was mid-sentence, shouting over the noise and making him wince. “Can’t hear you!”  
“Oh, screw you - not today, Satan.” He stood up, yanking the cord out at the wall and shutting the thing off. Shane simply laughed at the catchphrase; Roy curling his lip, taking him by the shoulder and turning the blond to face him.   
“ **You’re Satan.** Just to clarify.”  
“No shit, Shirley.” Shane smirked wickedly, a bright smile on his face. “How’s your head?”   
“I’ve never had any complaints - har-de-fucking-har.” Roy grumbled, still scowling as he leaned against the countertop, Shane pouring his smoothie into a glass and taking a sip. “Fucking terrible - what even happened last night?” 

“You really don’t remember?”   
“No?” Roy looked at him incredulously.

“Excellent - so in theory, I could tell you it was literally anything I want, and there’s jack shit you can do to disprove it. Consider yourself my bitch from this point on, Ms. Del Taco.”  
“I will not.” He scowled. “Seriously, what did I do? Better have been fucking bad seeing as you made me sleep on the couch in my own fucking house. Cunt.”  
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”  
“Liar - you can’t remember either.” Roy scowled at him; Shane pursing his lips, shrugging. 

“Well, dribs and drabs. I think I caught you feeling some guy up in the club, and I got pissed at-”   
“That’s because I thought it was  _ you _ , asshole. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, all fucking twinks look identical from behind.” Roy scoffed, rolling his eyes - the vague recollection springing back to him.  
“Well, I didn’t believe you, clearly.”  
“I don’t see why you’re jealous, anyway.” Roy shot him a withering look, Shane grimacing. “It’s not like we fucked or anything.”   
“You wouldn’t have wanted to - I saw him from the front, and oh god...Maybe that’s why I didn’t believe you. He was like, a four and a half at best. Why would you want to downgrade when you’ve got me?” Shane gave a smirk, Roy resisting the temptation to slap it off of him.  
“Arrogant bastard.”

Shane, when it suited him, was a bitch and a half - or would be if he were female. As a drag queen, he was more than enough of a prick for anyone to handle - he wouldn’t be half so likeable as a woman when he was in moods like this. And yet in the last few days, Roy had been wondering if he maybe liked Shane a bit too much. He may not have had any idea what the two of them were to one another, but he fucking well knew what he’d fuck, no strings attached, and Shane was it, personified. 

“If you could tell me specifically what I did wrong, I could maybe see your point here, but you sound like Laganja. ‘I don’t know what you did but you did something and the fact that you did that thing hurt my feelings.’ You’re such a fucking bitch.” A low growl of a laugh was just about audible in the back of Roy’s throat as he spoke.  
“Well, just assume until proven otherwise that it was really terrible and absolutely one-hundred-percent all your fault, and make it up to me by making breakfast for me.”   
Roy gagged. “No can do, asswipe - if I so much as fucking smell food right now I think I’m gonna puke.” 


End file.
